By the first peep of dawn, all was joyous commotion at Helsingborg Castle. Every Danish courtier and knight knew the punctuality and impetuosity of the young king, when it was necessary to be stirring at an early hour, even only on occasion of a hunting expedition. Every knight and squire who had not foot in stirrup, when the king was in the saddle, might expect a stern glance or a serious rebuke. On this solemn and important day, to which the attention of both kingdoms was turned, and which had been so ardently desired by Eric, it seemed as if the sun alone dared to put his patience to the proof. Ere day-break, the king's handsome horses, with their silken coverings and caparisons, stood already saddled in the court-yard of the castle; the richly-attired knights, clad in silk or plush, thronged gaily together, and hardly had the sun-beams of the first day of June shone upon the glittering bridal train, before Eric, leading his royal mother by the hand, stepped forth on the staircase of the upper story, and bowed courteously on all sides. He followed Countess Agnes to the ladies' car, with his head uncovered, and then vaulted into the saddle. His handsome and youthful countenance beamed with hope and heartfelt joy, and he seemed to have slept off every gloomy and disquieting thought. Arrayed in his most splendid knight's attire, with a rose-coloured shoulder-scarf over his shoulder, and with white ostrich feathers in his hat, he rode a spirited milk-white palfrey. His blithe stepfather, Count Gerhard, rode at his right hand, and Junker Christopher at his left. Even the junker seemed in a gay mood, but became grave, and coloured when the king waved his hand and greeted him with a cordiality of look and gesture which appeared to surprise and humble him. The gilded car, drawn by six iron-grey Andalusian horses, in which sat the king's dignified mother, with her ladies, rolled over the castle bridge at the head of the train, but the king soon rode impatiently past it, with a courteous apology, which was gladly received. Count Henrik accompanied him with the half of the knightly train, while the ladies' car and the rest of the numerous cavalcade found it difficult to keep up with the hastening bridegroom. All the pathways and banks on the road to Stockholm were crowded with a countless concourse of people, who shouted with joy at the splendid procession, and greeted the king with sympathising homage.

While the king thus rode to meet his bride, the most magnificent preparations were made at Helsingborg for the reception of the royal bridal pair. St. Mary's church was decorated with garlands and carpetted with flowers; the provincial prior of the Dominicans already officiated at early mass, as well as the venerable bishop of Aarhuus and RibÉ, who with calm courage had supported the king in his bold strife with the archbishop and the papal court. They had been standing at the high altar since daybreak, in readiness to preside over the sacred ceremonial of the day, and were accompanied by a great number of monks, canons, and priests from all the parishes of the kingdom, who intended by their united prayers and benedictions to consecrate this day as an auspicious festival for two nations and two royal houses.

On the greensward below the castle hill, lists and galleries were erected for the tournament, and tents were pitched with refreshments for the spectators. The whole household of the castle was in full activity; tables were spread in the lofty halls, and barrels with mead, ale, and wine were hoisted from the cellars. The cooks were busily employed in the kitchen. A number of musicians tuned and tried their instruments; pipers, lute-players, fiddlers and trumpeters, were stationed upon the balcony of the upper story, from whence they were to greet the bridal guests, and enliven the thronging crowds. In the spacious gardens on the rocky steep overlooking the Sound, the trees of the long avenues had been hung at an early hour with coloured lamps, for the evening festivity. In a separate part of the gardens preparations were making for exhibiting the hitherto unknown art of fire-works, with which the mysterious Thrand Fistlier purposed to surprise the king and court, and with which he himself and his amanuensis, the youthful Master Laurentius, were zealously busied; while Master Rumelant and Master PoppÉ wandered among the tall yew-hedges, and practised their festal lays. The concourse of curious guests and spectators was constantly increasing. All the ships in the harbour were hung with wreaths and flags, and the Sound was almost hidden by the fleet of ships arriving from Zealand and the isles. On the quay, in the town, and on the road to Stockholm, crowds of knights, priests, and town's-people, mingled with fishermen and Scanian peasants with their families--there were national costumes to be seen from the farthest Danish isles, and from many Swedish provinces. The streets were strewed with flowers. All the windows were hung with garlands and silken carpets, and occupied by gaily-dressed ladies. There was a continued murmur from the many thousand voices, and a general gaze of expectation towards that quarter from whence the bridal procession was expected. At last it was echoed from mouth to mouth, "The procession! The procession! now they are come! There they are!" The multitude moved onward in one vast wave, and the provost with his men found it difficult to keep a space clear for the entrance of the train.

Upon a large kerb stone, in the vicinity of the drawbridge beside the southern gate of the castle, stood a strongly-built man, in a coarse pilgrim's cloak, with muscle shells on the cape over his broad shoulders, and with his broad-brimmed hat, half slouched over a pair of round sun-burnt cheeks. At his side stood an old fisherman, and a pretty little fishermaiden in a north Zealand costume, from the district of GilleleiÉ. The pilgrim was Morten the cook, who, with his betrothed and her father, had just landed from a fishing yawl, on a remote spot under the sand-stone cliff. The day preceding, Morten had been set on shore at GilleleiÉ, from a foreign vessel, with a red sail, which had suffered damage at sea, and had been compelled to put in under the Kohl for repairs; of which he talked in a mysterious manner. Although, as a party to the archbishop's flight from SjÖborg, he had been outlawed by the king, he had not only succeeded in quieting the fears of old JeppÉ, the fisherman, and his daughter, at his re-appearance in the country, but had even prevailed on them to accompany him hither, where he meant to show them, he said, that, by his pilgrimage, he had obtained peace both with God and man, and that he now, with a bran new and clean conscience, could dare to face the king on his bridal day.

"Come hither. Father JeppÉ! Come little Karen! let me lift thee up here!" said Morten, jumping down from the stone--"now ye can see all the finery and splendour. I shall do most wisely in keeping within my pilgrim's skin at first, on account of my bit of a head and neck."

"Alack, yes! for the Lord's sake, dearest Morten!" whispered the fishermaiden, anxiously, patting his cheek while she suffered his strong arm to lift her, like a puppet, upon the kerb stone; "hide thyself behind my back and my father's! I shall die of fear, if the king sees thee!"

"Trouble not thyself about anything, and look cheerfully at the fine doings, little sweetheart," whispered the blithe pilgrim; "he hath but seen me once in his life and hardly knows me; to-day he hath also something else to think of than of hanging his dear faithful subjects."

"He is a scoundrel who says he hath ever done that!" exclaimed old JeppÉ, the fisherman, with repressed vehemence. "Should he cause thee now to be hanged, thou knave! thou hast, doubtless, honestly deserved it. If thou canst not speak and clear thyself like an honest fellow and as thou gavest me hand and word thou wouldst ere thou left the country, then didst thou journey to Rome like a fool, and art come home like a simpleton."

"Come, come, Father JeppÉ!" continued Morten, "let's see the finery in peace! Whether I am to be hanged or no can be settled time enough to-morrow; there is no need to hurry the matter."

"Thou art a desperate rogue, Morten!" growled the old man--"hast thou 'ticed us hither that we might have the sorrow to see thee dangle? Then thou shalt never have my daughter--I had well nigh said--but that follows of itself, I trow. What hath got the great lords who were to help thee? 'Tis all chatter and bragging, we shall find, and thou art as yet but an impudent madcap, as thou ever wast."

"Hush, Father JeppÉ! Look! yonder come great lords and knights enow; who knows whether one of them will not break a lance with the king in honour of Morten the cook?--And look--there he comes himself."

"Out of the way, madcap! him thou art not worthy to look on," said the fisherman, pushing back the outlawed pilgrim with violence, while he carefully concealed him. "I dare, the Lord be thanked and praised for it, look our noble king in the face without creeping to hide behind an honest fellow's back."

All eyes were now turned only upon the procession, and the air rang with loyal acclamations for the king and his beautiful bride.

However high expectation had been raised, and however greatly report had exalted the beauty and loveable deportment of the noble Princess Ingeborg, all who now beheld her seemed to be struck with her appearance, even in a greater degree than they had anticipated. She sat between her own mother. Queen Helvig, and the king's mother, Countess Agnes, in the large, open ladies' car; she was as yet only attired in a simple but tasteful travelling dress; no showy pomp and splendour heightened her beauty; but none inquired who was the bride.

By the side of the two elder ladies (who both, however, inspired respect, and attracted the attention of the people, by their dignified mien), youthful beauty still maintained its supremacy, and awakened an admiration, which, associated with the idea of her being the king's bride, and of her becoming, this day, Denmark's queen, asked not for a more majestic presence. By the side of her mother, the sister of the noble Count Gerhard, it might be seen from whom she had inherited the innocent, good-natured smile, and the engaging expression of heartfelt kindliness which was the very essence of her nature; and those who had seen her renowned father. King Magnus Ladislaus, could account for the dignity and ingenuous frankness which was combined with so much mildness and condescension in the countenance of the lovely princess. Opposite the princess and the two royal mothers sat two younger ladies, belonging to the train of the princess and the Swedish queen dowager; the younger was the fair lady ChristinÉ, Thorkild Knudsen's daughter, who had lately been betrothed to King Birger's younger brother, Duke Valdemar of Finland; the elder was the instructress of the princess's childhood, and her faithful friend, the Lady IngÉ. This noble lady, next to the pious, benevolent Queen Helvig, had exercised a real influence on the formation of the princess's character, and early awakened in her heart a warm affection for Denmark. She had made the future queen of the Danes acquainted with the spirit and usages of the nation; with its past achievements, its national ballads, and noble traditions; and she had seen, with pleasure and enthusiasm, how the spirit of a whole nation seemed to breathe forth from the innocent and pious mind of Princess Ingeborg, in the tenderest affection for the young Danish king.

The Lady IngÉ was still a young and very attractive woman, with much determination and energy in her look and deportment; she was known and appreciated by the people, but now seemed to rejoice at being eclipsed by the radiance of that youthful beauty, which justly rendered Princess Ingeborg the queen of the day and the festival.

The princess returned the greeting and enthusiastic acclamations of the people with the kindliest expression in her countenance and deportment. Each time she turned her joyous glance to the right from the car it met the king's; he rode by the side of the ladies' car on his white steed, with his plumed hat in his hand, and, almost overwhelmed with joy, appeared to divide his affection between his loyal people and his bride, while his whole soul's happiness seemed to beam forth from his eye, whether it rested on the car or on the acclaiming crowds. Yet even in this happy mood it was not possible for him to repress a fleeting sigh, and a cloud seemed as it were to pass over the clear heaven in his face whenever he heard his brother's hollow voice from the opposite side of the ladies' car, and discerned a manifest expression of rancour and wounded pride in the restless look and passionate glow of Junker Christopher's countenance. Christopher rode between the brothers of the Swedish King Birger, the brave, chivalrous Duke Eric of Sudermania, and Duke Valdemar of Finland, who both attracted much attention by their manly beauty, their courteous bearing, and splendid attire. Each time Christopher heard them addressed by the title of duke, and himself only as the "high-born junker," he apparently strove, but in vain, to hide, by a bitter smile, how deeply he felt himself aggrieved and neglected by his brother, who had not raised him in rank and title, although he stood in the same relative position to the King of Denmark as the Swedish dukes^[6] to the King of Sweden.

The young King Birger himself, who could as little vie with his chivalrous brothers in presence and dignity as in mind and bodily strength, followed the queen's car in an easy travelling vehicle, in which he sat, in his costly purple mantle, by a young lady's side. It was his betrothed bride, Princess MeretÉ of Denmark, King Eric's sister, who, according to the early contract of betrothal, had, while yet a child, been received into the royal family of Sweden as Queen Helvig's foster-daughter, and had not seen her mother or brothers since the marriage of Queen Agnes with Count Gerhard. The Danish princess now spoke the Swedish language like her mother tongue, and appeared already conscious of her dignity as Sweden's future queen; she possessed, however, neither the beauty nor the attractive mildness of Princess Ingeborg, and it was remarked she bore a greater resemblance to the junker and her unhappy father than to King Eric and the fair Queen Agnes.

The Swedish regent, Marsk Thorkild Knudsen, accompanied his sovereign on horseback with almost regal splendour. He rode between Drost AagÉ and Count Henrik of Mecklenborg, who often nodded gaily to each other; and the festive rejoicing of the fair summer's day was not less evident among the gallant train of knights which followed the Swedish monarch.

At the head of the Danish chivalry rode the powerful, but little popular, Marsk Oluffsen. With his rough austere visage and blunt bearing he formed a striking contrast to the agile, slender knight Helmer Blaa, who gaily bestrode his favourite re-found Arabian, and often unconsciously nodded assent, by way of confirmation, when he heard the populace laud him or his horse; occasionally, however, he glanced rather doubtfully towards the king, as if he desired not as yet to be noticed by him, and occasionally gave Drost AagÉ a monitory look. Beside him rode a quiet ecclesiastic on a palfrey; it was the king's confessor. Master Petrus de Dacia; his eye often dwelt on the cloudless summer heaven, and he seemed, in his calm satisfaction, to think more of heavenly and godly things, and of a distant unseen beauty, than of the worldly pomp by which he was surrounded.

Helsingborg castle could hardly accommodate the numerous trains and wedding guests. A couple of hours after the entrance of the procession the bridal train was seen to proceed with still greater splendour to the church. Before the six white horses of the princess's gilded car pranced the two white tournament steeds which the king had been so displeased at missing from SorretslÓv castle. The two stable boys who had unweariedly tracked the steps of the horses down to Stockholm, now skipped joyously by the side of the noble animals. When the king beheld the two well-known palfreys perform their trained step before the bride's car, he was heartily pleased and surprised. Drost AagÉ instantly informed him, in a few words, of Sir Helmer's bold adventure in Copenhagen, and that he was here among his bridegroom's-men. The king looked back, and recognised his briskest knight. "In the saddle he rides so free," he said, with a menacing gesture, to Sir Helmer, but with a gay smile and a nod of approbation.

In the church the marriage was solemnised, with all the rites of the Romish church, by the Bishops of Aarhuus and RibÉ, while the provincial prior Olaus, together with the assembled monks, chaunted with their deep-toned voices in full chorus a "Gloria in excelsis." While the one bishop joined the hands of the royal pair, and pronounced upon them the church's benediction, the other placed the queenly crown of Denmark on the light, beautiful tresses of the bride, and now a mighty tide of trumpet sound poured into the choral song, and the people joined in the solemn chorus. A fairer sight had never been beheld by Danish or Swedish man than when the royal pair, with tears of devotion and joy in their eyes, and hand in hand, sank down, kneeling on the bridal stool before the high and brilliantly-lighted altar, and nearly the whole bridal train, together with the enthusiastic crowd of spectators, knelt down, as if moved by one common impulse, in audible prayer and devotion.

The trumpets ceased and there was a breathless silence, while the bridal pair, in clear and distinct tones, pronounced the vow of unalterable love and constancy to the end of their lives. The deep amen of the aged provincial prior was re-echoed by the monks and by many among the people. A "Te Deum," with an accompaniment of bassoons and trumpets, concluded the church's festival.

After the blessing, the deeply affected pair were embraced by their nearest relatives in the high choir. At last Prince Christopher also approached his royal brother, and seemed preparing for a cold and forced salutation; but at this moment it seemed as if the spirit of darkness which had so long threatened the brothers from afar had suddenly come between them, and shot up into a giant. They gazed in silence, almost in dismay, upon each other, and let their arms sink; it seemed as though the gentle tear in the king's eye congealed and froze at his brother's frightful coldness.

"No falsehood in this holy hour, Christopher, if thy soul and thy salvation are dear to thee!" he whispered in a tone of stern admonition; "brothers now in the sight of God! or--may God forgive me!--enemies to death!"

Christopher bowed in silence, and turned pale; his lips appeared to move, but no sound issued from them. The king turned from him with a flashing glance; but it seemed as if a glimpse in the open heaven suddenly extinguished the fearful gleam of rising wrath and grief in the king's expressive countenance as he turned round and beheld his gently agitated bride tenderly stretch out her arms towards him; he pressed her eagerly to his heart, and the mild tear again glistened in his eye. "This heart, however, thou hast given me, all-merciful Creator!" he whispered, "and I have a brother at thy right hand who hates me not."

"My Eric! what is this?" asked the bride in astonishment, and gazing into his eyes; but she observed his uplifted eye resting in confidence on the crucifix over the door of the choir, and proceeded in silence and in tranquil joy through the aisle of the church, leaning on Eric's arm at the head of the bridal train. The king was afterwards calm and cheerful, but unusually pensive. No one, however, appeared to have remarked the painful feeling which had disturbed his happiness.